Take a Bite of Me, Boy
by Isosceletic Triangulate
Summary: This entire scene is so completely out of left field that even Cas, The Holy Angel Of All Things Humorless And Culture-Shocked, would laugh at such ... weirdness.


Second Supernautral fic, what what?

Okay, here we go, y'all- shit's getting real up in this bitch. Kinda.

Basic summary: Sam and another one of the four Horsemen have a conversation in limbo. The fact that this Horseman in particular is a chick is a direct lift from _A Kiss Before the Apocalypse_. I think I gave her a bit more of a personality than the figure in the book, who basically just a Biblical cameo. My version's been ... I dunno, Kripke'd? And I suppose you could classify this story as a crossover, but I personally won't; for one, to not confuse anybody; and for two, because there is no mention of anyone specific to that book like Remy or ~Nathanuel~ (who would've gotten along splendidly with Uriel, but that's another story for another day).

The only Supernatural character in this is Sam, actually. Dean and Castiel are mentioned, but it's kind of hard to find limbo, so they don't make full appearances. War is mentioned too, by the way, so if you haven't seen "Good God, Y'All!"/5.02, then turn away now. I doubt this counts for a spoiler anymore, but some fans are cable-less or overseas or whatever, so I'll be cool about that. I don't think there's much else, though.

No pairings in this fic, either. Well, not _directly_, at least, lol.

Oh, and the title has been lifted from "Teeth" by the one and only Lady Gaga. It fits, shut up. Better yet, don't shut up and go here instead:

w w w . y o u t u b e .com/watch?v=bDucuS24A9Q

You'll see the light eventually, children.

* * *

To anyone else, the woman behind the sink would look like a normal housewife. Maybe a bit odd to the modern whole of society, with her 1950s style and face like a china doll, but still normal. Just a regular woman going about her household chores. But Sam, ever the hunter, knows much better.

"You don't have to stare at me like that," the woman says as she sprays down a striped plate. "I'm not going to hurt you or anything."

Sam, who's seated at the woman's table with his arms crossed and mouth in a hard, straight line, doesn't budge.

"If that's true, then why can't I leave?"

The woman looks up at him and softly smiles. "Samuel, I would have no problem letting you leave, but my orders comes from a superior. I'm just not allowed to let you go."

Sam huffs and looks out a nearby window- what he woke up seeing today, a sunny day with little to no clouds whiting out the bright blue, was now a nothingland of purple, encompassing sky and green-gold clouds.

This woman lives in freakin' purgatory. And of course, she knows it.

"I don't blame you for being upset." The woman says in between dishes. "I wouldn't like being held somewhere against my will either. And I certainly wouldn't like being tricked into a sticky situation like this, but sometimes things happen that we just can't control." Then she pauses, as if to reflect on the deep meaning behind not making stupid, rookie mistakes that a certain older brother would laugh his ass off at like this.

She hums contentedly and smiles at the Winchester boy.

"You humans seem to go through a lot of that sort of thing, don't you?"

Sam looks up at her, nostrils flaring. Though he was trapped in limbo, weaponless and alone, that didn't see to annoy him as much as the fact that one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse was trying to make small talk with him.

She can sense it, too, but it doesn't faze her. In all honesty, why should it?

"Samuel," she says, coyly grinning like only a black-and-white housewife can, "I'm only making polite conversation for you. I sympathize with you in your current predicament. Plus, having been locked away with my brothers for so long, well, I think I've been all talked out for a while. Then again, it would be nice to say that I had the honor of speaking with the one and only boy king himself."

She giggles then, and even blushes, staining her porcelain face. "You'll have to excuse me if I seem a bit starstruck- I've never met a celebrity before."

And Sam, Lord help him, has no clue how to respond to that. In a strange, sick way, he's actually kind of flattered, but then reality sinks in and well, that's the end of that. So, he does what he's best at- he sighs. When everything becomes so shot to hell, one easily develops the coveted Fuck Everything, Whatever mentality. And if it help him passed the time, then fuck it, he'd talk. Whatever.

"Can't say the same for you, I guess. I met your brother not too long ago."

She bounces into a questioning expression, raising her eyebrows behind her jet-black hair. "That's right. Which one was it again?"

"War."

The woman smiles then, and laughs to her self. "That's right, I remember him telling me about his visit with you now. You'll have to forgive my forgetfulness, being in a form like this makes me so scatterbrained. I'm not very used to it." She winks, then sets a dish down on to the towel next to her. "You chopped off his finger, didn't you? You and your brother?"

She sounds somewhat amused at her own sibling's loss of an appendage, but Sam answers her anyway.

"Uh, yeah. We really had no choice at the time."

"Oh, Samuel, I understand completely."

She waves her own brother's misfortune away like it's nothing and continues on her plates.

"War was always a big idiot," she says, without hesitation. "He never thought things ahead and he always got himself into hot water because of it. He lost a finger, it serves him right, as far as I'm concerned."

And here, here is where everything just falls into place so ridiculously that Sam can't help but chuckle. Forget the fact that he's currently a guest at Famine's house and could possibly be killed at any second if she felt so inclined to do so, this entire scene is so completely out of left field that even Cas, The Holy Angel Of All Things Humorless And Culture Shocked, would laugh at such ... weirdness!

Sam looks away from the woman and laughs. Not a big, rumbling laugh that a man of his size would be more than capable of producing, but a highly amused series of chuckles. He laughs as he looks up and down the walls, occasionally spying the pictures of the human lady that Famine took over and her family and the tiny figures of black horses strewn over the wooden shelves. It's so funny, that even Famine herself starts to laugh.

"It took being held captive by me to make you loosen up? It's things like that make me wonder about what you would've turned out like if you were normal."

To say that Famine doesn't have much tact would be an understatement, but Sam laughs again, in spite of himself.

"And do I know what wondering feels like ... "

He trails off and his smile fades, so so beat the silence before it even arrives, he looks back up and asks the Horseman, err, woman, a question.

"Wait a minute, it just hit me- if you're one of the Horsemen, then why did you take over a woman's body?"

Famine is holding a gloved hand just barely to her chest in an effort to calm herself. She hasto answer in between both dishes and high-pitched gasps now.

"Oh, I just thought it was the best fit for me. Compared to my brothers, I was always the ... oh, I guess you could say the softest. Oh, goodness."

"Softest? What does that mean?"

"Well," Famine says, "if you think about it, I'm the most feminine of the Horsemen, with what I do and all."

"How so?"

Famine smiles, just like a little kid smiles when a parent praises them for doing something good. "You were a law student, weren't you? Think of it this way- my brothers are blunt and straightforward with what they're programmed to do, like abusive husbands. War hardly covered his tracks pitting people against each other, Death is as plain as the nose on your face, and Pestilence ... is just vile. Me, on the other hand, I creep up on people and I do it slowly, like those female serial killers. I'm quiet and vague and above all, strategic. I suppose the only thing I lack is a convoluted weapon, but then again I guess you could count my lack of food as weapon enough."

...

... now things aren't so funny.

Sam shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling sick. She was too right, and it was scary. And if this was a Horseman inside someone, what would Lucifer be able to do inside --

"Oh, I don't give two shakes of a lamb's tail about that embarrassment." Famine says suddenly, and Sam knows she's just read his mind. He doesn't ask how did she do that, because really, it's more than obvious.

Now it's her turn to huff. She tosses her gloves away and turns the sink off, wiping her pale hands on her apron covered with black horses.

She turns to a plate full of sweets on the counter, and as she loads the confectionary treats into demonic Tupperware or whatever it is she uses, she begins to go on about said embarrassment.

"That soft-talking nancy isn't worth his weight in salt, if you ask me. He much more trouble than he's worth. I don't see why Father just doesn't smite him on the spot. It's not as if he can't."

Sam, suddenly very uncomfortable, raises an eyebrow. "Father?"

Famine turns to him like she has no idea what his question means. Then she gets it and laughs again.

"Samuel, you're the smart one. Of course you know that it was God who made me and my brothers, yes? For when he deemed the end appropriate, right? I told you earlier, I'm not a bad guy." She grins and takes her packaged pastries to the refrigerator of the human lady's home.

Sam watches her open it and stick the plastic tub inside, amongst a huge bevy of other foods that one person could not hope to eat alone. She lets the door close on its own as she turns back to him, smiling a bit too widely this time.

"Or at least I won't be when it comes to you,_ your Highness_."

She turns away and reopens the door, only to find all of the food inside gone. Quite literally vanished without a trace.

Clicking her tongue, she shuffles over the linoleum in her mary-jane heels and begins to grab ingredients from a nearby cupboard.

"That always seems to happen to me," she says, shaking her head. "Food goes in but never comes out. Oh well, I suppose I'll just make more." She gives him a motherly smile and beams at him. "Would you care to help, Samuel? Heaven know I could use the extra hands." she asks, as if the sky is still blue outside.

Sam, now back to not wanting any of this polite conversation, just shakes his head.

Silence never sounded more appealing.

* * *

Let me know, juggalo~


End file.
